


"Apparition Haunting Me"

by farad



Category: Nashville - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy's won the election, but was it worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Apparition Haunting Me"

**Author's Note:**

> For Huntersglenn
> 
> This story picks up immediately after the closing scene of episode 1:10 "You Win Again".
> 
> All mistakes my very own; let me know what you find.

_"Wish that I didn’t have to see a confidant as an enemy_   
_Count on lies and the lines you cross_   
_Helplessly I could only watch_   
  
_Dodging words as they ricochet_   
_Honesty that’ll never pay_   
_Your convictions I believe_   
_Like an apparition haunting me_   
  
_Now the truth is a ball and chain_   
_Holding my conscience to the flame_   
_Covered up, but still I know_   
_The secret of the life you’re guilty of_   
_The smoking gun is what I’ve found_   
_The dirt I have on you is the ground_   
_Ooo, I’m buried under "_

 

from "Buried Under" by Chris DeStefano and Natalie Hemby

 

 

Teddy stood, his hand on the doorknob. He could still feel the press of Peggy's hand against his cheek, smell the scent of her floral perfume. See the look in her eyes, the one that invited him to do more, to lean into her, to kiss her.

 

He'd wanted to. Not because it was Peggy – he had no more desire for her now than he'd had years before, when they'd dated, when they'd spent nights cuddled together in her bed, her body pressed close against his. Even then he hadn't wanted her, not sexually. She'd never pushed, though, believing, thankfully, that she had to be a virgin when she married.

 

It had made things easier for him, to have a girlfriend who everyone liked, especially his parents, to have someone to spend time with that he himself liked. They'd shared so very much back then, their secrets, their hopes, even plans for a future. But never their bodies, or at least, never intercourse. They'd touched intimately, his hands on her and even in her, her hands on him. And that had been enough, then.

 

It wouldn't be enough now, though, and while he'd been tempted to kiss her, to pull her close and hold her, it hadn't been for sex. It had been because he was lonely, because on this night, the night he'd won the title of Mayor of Nashville, the night he'd been working so hard for, he'd wanted someone to be happy with him. Rayna had come back, but he wasn't for him. She'd come back for appearances, and to be with the girls.

 

She hadn't once touched him of her own volition. She'd let him hug her and she's played the part, but her body had been stiff against his, her eyes cold. Not hard or angry, which was something, but it was a very small something right now.

 

He sighed, pulling himself together. He could stay here in the hotel tonight, claim that he'd been too drunk to drive home. The suite was paid for, and if he called to let Rayna know, it would probably be a relief for her, not to have him there. The bed here would be better than the couch in his office, where he spent the nights when she was home.

 

Separated. Living in the same house, but separated. She wasn't happy, hadn't been happy in years, she'd said. And she believed that he hadn't been either. That had hurt worse than her anger and the distance now. Because he had been happy, happier than he thought he'd ever be. Happier than he'd thought he had a right to be.

 

He walked over to the table, checking the champagne bottles. They were all empty, which was good. He needed to stop drinking. He'd been doing it too much as of late. The last thing he wanted to do was turn into his father. The very idea of it made him shiver.

 

What to do . . . He looked at the black screen of the television. The news was the same, all precincts now reporting that he had won. It had been close, and he would still have to deal with Coleman, who was still on the City Council. But that was for tomorrow.

 

There was another knock at the door and he turned toward it, frowning. Peggy again? That would be bad. He didn't need to answer if it were. He didn't need the temptation.

 

He made as little noise as possible as he walked back and looked through the peep hole. If it was her, he could act as if he weren't here.

 

But it wasn't. He stared, more surprised by this than by Peggy's appearance. But then, as he thought about it, maybe not. And with that thought, he felt a surge of anger. It was good, it burned away the loneliness and the sadness. It grew as he thought even more about the person on the other side of the door.

 

He reached for the knob and pulled the door open before he really thought about it. "What the hell do you want?" he snarled, glaring at the man on the other side.

 

Deacon Claybourne stared back, his eyes widening in surprise, but only for a few seconds. Then they, too, glared. "Not a goddamned thing," he spat back, turning away.

 

Teddy drew a breath and watched Deacon walk down the hall. If he'd come here for Rayna – well, obviously he hadn't. "Wait," he said, but Deacon kept walking. "Deacon," Teddy called a little louder, though not too loud, it was late and it was a hotel. He took several steps, following, then called again, "I'm sorry." And he was. Sort of.

 

It had the desired effect; Deacon slowed then stopped, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he said over his shoulder, "I was going to congratulate you on the win."

 

Teddy swallowed and took several more steps, coming close enough not to be able to talk quietly but not close enough to touch. "Thanks. It was a close one."

 

Deacon nodded, opened his mouth, then closed it and turned forward, as if to continue on.

 

"I thought you were on the road," Teddy blurted, surprising himself with the words, and with the reason for them: he wanted to talk to Deacon. He really was lonely.

 

Deacon took a deep breath, his shoulders straightening. As he let it out, he turned slowly, a quarter turn, so that he wasn't looking at Teddy but wasn't facing away from him either. "Didn't work out," he said, his words flat.

 

"I'm sorry," Teddy said, and at one level, he was. It had been a relief in many ways to have Deacon out of town. One of those ways had been to have him away from Rayna.

 

Now, though, Teddy wondered if that had been a bad idea. At least when Deacon was around, Rayna had tried to make it work with Teddy. Without Deacon – well, without him, she was 'unhappy'.

 

It was a feeling Teddy understood too well.

 

"For what?" Deacon asked. "Being as ass?"

 

The anger flared in his belly and through the corners of his mind. This was the Deacon he knew best, the one who had driven him away, the one who had, after almost twenty years, finally driven Rayna away.

 

Teddy shook his head, holding onto the anger. "Thanks for coming by," he said, turning on his heel.

 

He was almost at the door to the room when Deacon said, "Ted." It was low and warm, a word that Teddy hadn't heard in years. It struck deep in his belly, bringing up memories he'd tried so very hard to forget.

 

He wasn't aware he'd stopped or even closed his eyes until he felt someone close behind him, then a hand on his shoulder. He jerked, pulling away, but the hand tightened, holding him.

 

Then Deacon's voice was in his ear, low and soft. "My turn to apologize. About the way things were at the country club . . ."

 

Teddy swallowed, trying not to think about the hand on his shoulder. Trying not to think about how that hand used to touch him, the way it used to feel. "Yeah," he said, hearing his voice catch. "What was that about? You and Rayna?" He'd tried to keep it steady but as he said her name, all the hurt of the last few weeks, of the past years, came up, choking him.

 

"Awh, man," Deacon murmured. "No, not Rayna – not the way you think. Come on." He pushed lightly at Teddy's shoulder, urging him into the room. Teddy went, lifting one hand to wipe at his forehead, at his eyes. He didn't need this, not tonight.

 

He walked over to the small bar counter as Deacon closed the door behind them. Teddy ran the spigot and filled a glass with water, taking several long drinks, letting the water clear his throat and his head.

 

"Ted," Deacon said, coming up close. "Are you all right?"

 

Teddy refilled the glass as he nodded. "Long day," he said, his voice a little rough but under his control.

 

"Yeah, I guess so," Deacon said. He shifted, leaning on the counter and turning so that he could see Teddy's face. "I know it's late, but why are you here alone? I thought the celebration would still be going on."

 

Teddy shrugged, sipping more of the water. After he swallowed again, he said, "Work day tomorrow, kids have school – lots going on."

 

Deacon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward a little. "Heard Rayna was on tour with Juliette."

 

So this was why he was here, to find out about Rayna. "Yeah," he said, dully. "She's short a guitarist – Liam is filling in. You could call her and probably get your job back, just like old times." The water seemed to burn in his stomach now, like gasoline or bile, making him sick.

 

Damn them both.

 

"Ted," Deacon said, his voice soft. "I wasn't asking for me. I was asking for you – why isn't she here?"

 

Teddy closed his eyes. The very last thing he wanted to do was have this conversation with Deacon. Of all people to have to try to explain -

 

"I knew there were problems, but I didn't seriously believe you'd had an affair with Peggy," Deacon went on. "That's impossible to believe."

 

The nausea roiled through him, carried on a wave of anger. "Why?" he said, turning to stare at the other man. "Some people find me attractive – some people want to be with me."

 

Deacon took a step back and held up his hands. "Hang on, man, I wasn't saying that."

 

Teddy stared at him, the fury still running through him. He felt the glass in his hand, cool against his fingertips, and he had a passing thought of throwing it at Deacon.

 

"I know that," Deacon went on, his voice low. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was . . . " He took a deep breath and his gaze moved away, past Teddy and toward the window. "I meant that . . ."

 

Teddy knew what he meant. And as he thought it, the anger drained away, leaving him cold. 'I don't think you've been happy either.' The words came back, echoing through his head the way they had for weeks now, since Rayna had stood in the bedroom, the one that they had shared for twelve years, and said them. "I know what you meant," he said, the words bitter on his tongue. "And despite what you and Rayna think, I have been happy married to her, I have been happy with my life - "

 

"Ted, Ted, hey, hold on." He stepped back yet again, extending his hands further but not lifting them. "I know you love Rayna. What I meant was that I didn't think you could cheat with Peggy - "

 

"What you meant," Teddy said, "was that you couldn't believe that I would have have sex with Peggy because she's a woman."

 

He stared straight at Deacon, daring him to argue. Daring him to deny what they both knew.

 

Deacon stared back for a few seconds, then he looked away. "Maybe I am. Because I know how hard that is, too, Ted. And you know that."

 

Teddy heard he words, let them sit in his head for a time. The admission. The confession.

 

"What do you want?" Teddy murmured. He was tired, the anger gone, the memories crowding in, too close, filling up the hollow space where Rayna was supposed to be.

 

Deacon looked back at him, his gaze softer now. "I wanted to congratulate you," he said. "I know how much this means to you."

 

"Glad somebody does," Teddy said, looking away. "I sure as hell don't anymore."

 

Deacon moved closer, one hand reaching out toward Teddy. It stopped just before it connected, hanging in the air between them.

 

Teddy didn't look at it. He couldn't. Because he wanted it to touch him, wanted it more than he wanted anything else, more than he wanted his marriage with Rayna to work, more than he wanted the embezzlement not to have happened, more than he wanted to win this damned election.

 

Wanted Deacon. It had been years, almost twenty. Yet it was still there, his body knowing the feel of that hand, those hands, shivering with an anticipation, a want that had nothing to do with his memories. He tried to remember all the bad things – the fights, Deacon's anger when Teddy lied to his parents, lied to his friends, that last summer together when Deacon had been drunk most of the time they were together, reminding Teddy too much of his father. That was the summer that it had ended, the summer when Deacon had spent more time with Teddy's father than with Teddy.

 

The next summer, the summer between his sophomore and junior years of college, he hadn't gone with his parents to the Pensacola summer house. He'd met Peggy that year, and they'd opted instead to take summer classes. He'd called Deacon, missing him, but Deacon had been busy. He'd found a woman he was writing music with and they were doing shows wherever they could.

 

The next year, a new country star had started her rise to the top, Rayna James. Teddy had seen Deacon's name associated with hers, and he'd felt some jealousy. A lot, really, but he'd put it behind him.

 

Then . . . then.

 

"I couldn't believe you married her," Deacon said softly and the tips of his fingers brushed Teddy's hand. "I couldn't believe what I felt when I saw you together."

 

"Yeah," Teddy sighed. "A two-fer – you managed to drive two of your lovers away with your drinking. Bet it was a surprise to find us together."

 

The fingers slid further along his hand, curling over his thumb. "Yeah," Deacon agreed. "The real surprise though was that I was more jealous of her having you."

 

Despite himself, Teddy flinched, surprised. He turned to look at Deacon, to see if he was lying – and he was lost.

 

"Ted," Deacon said, stepping even closer, his hand now holding Teddy's. "I never stopped loving you. I know it seemed that way, especially that last summer. But I - I couldn't take it anymore, watching you pretend for that bastard of a father you had - "

 

"That bastard you spent most of the summer with?" Teddy cut him off. He stepped back, trying to pull away, but the fingers around his hand gripped tighter.

 

"I didn't mean to. At first – at first I wanted to try to be friends with him, for you. To try to understand why you let him do that to you. But then things with us . . . I was mad at you, hurt that you didn't even try to understand what I was doing."

 

Teddy looked at him, not quite sure he understood. "You said you were going to tell him about us. About me."

 

Deacon's face scrunched, his forehead wrinkling. "I said – what? When?" A strand of his dark hair fell forward, just as it used to after they'd been swimming and it had dried in the sun. Just as it had after they'd spent the afternoon in bed, sweaty and sated yet wanting more.

 

He wanted to reach up and push it back, but he knew if he did, he'd never stop. "The day I got there – that first night together. You said you were going to make it right for me. You said the only way I'd ever be happy was if my daddy knew what I was, and you were going to tell him."

 

The hand on Teddy's wrist tightened, to the point of hurting. "And you believed I would do that to you?" Deacon said, his voice louder now. "You really thought, knowing what I knew about what he did to you, that I'd – shit, Teddy."

 

His grip loosened, so much so that Teddy thought he was letting go. Before he thought about it, he turned his wrist so that he was holding Deacon's hand. "You stayed with him – you drank with him, spent more time with him than me - "

 

"I'd never let him hurt you. I'd never – awh, hell." Deacon sighed and shook his head, looking down. More of his hair fell forward, making him look like he had all those years ago.

 

"Doesn't matter," Teddy said, knotting his free hand into a fist to keep from reaching out, to keep from touching. "It's long over now."

 

Deacon looked up then, his gaze bright through his bangs. "When you left that summer, I knew it was over. I just didn't know why. I thought - I thought you thought you were too good for me, that you'd finally decided to be a rich prick like your dad."

 

Teddy smiled, amused. Of course this would come out tonight. The best day, the worst night.

 

"Guess we both fucked that up, huh," Deacon said. "I was drinking and you were running."

 

"Things we did best," Teddy answered. He relaxed his hand, letting it slid off of Deacon's. "At least one of us cleaned up, huh."

 

"Ted." Deacon's hands moved forward, catching Teddy's waist. He stared into Teddy's eyes, slowly leaning in closer.

 

So close his breath blew warm against Teddy's cheek, so close that Teddy could smell the scent of his shampoo, of his soap. So close he could feel the heat of Deacon's body.

 

So close that Teddy should step away, put distance between them, stop this.

 

But his body moved on its own, leaning forward, seeking out the heat. The warmth. Seeking to fill the empty space within.

 

The short trill of a phone ringing was soft but it may as well have been an explosion. They both jerked back and Deacon's hands let go. The sound came again, and Teddy fumbled for his pocket aware that Deacon was doing the same. As soon as Teddy had his cell phone under his fingers, though, he knew it wasn't his. Maddie had reset his ring tones several days ago.

 

Maddie.

 

Like a tidal wave, all the rest, the memories of everything that had happened in the years since that summer, washed back through his mind, pounding against his sense of self. It might all have been a mistake, the two of them misunderstanding each other, but it didn't change what had happened since.

 

"Yeah," Deacon said, his voice raspy as he drew the phone to his ear. "No, I – hey, sorry, I was . . . "

 

Living in the past, Teddy silently finished the sentence for him. Wanting something that never really was.

 

He forced his legs to work, walking unsteadily away. Without thinking, he walked over to the television, finding the remote and turning it on.

 

Behind him, he heard Deacon talking but the sound of the television made the words indecipherable. Which was good. He didn't need to know, didn't want to know.

 

He wiped his hand across his face, aware that he was sweating though he felt cold. The emptiness was back now, deeper and sharper than it had been, but strangely safe. He knew it, understood it.

 

"Ted." Deacon's voice was still raspy but stronger now.

 

Teddy turned to look at the other man. Deacon stood on the other side of the room, not far away. But it may has well have been miles. Years. "Don't call me that," Teddy said, the words catching a little on his tongue but clear enough.

 

Deacon stared for a time then he nodded. "I . . ." He drew a breath, one hand waving in the air as if searching for something to hold onto.

 

Teddy swallowed and straightened. "Thanks for coming by," he said, pleased that his voice was more level.

 

Deacon's hand slowly dropped back to his side. "Yeah," he said, shrugging. He opened his mouth as if he'd say more, but like before, the words didn't come.

 

In the background, the newscaster was discussing the mayoral race again, Teddy's win – and Rayna's tour. As before, the new showed the clip from the performance in San Diego last night, and Deacon's gaze drifted to the television.

 

To Rayna.

 

Deacon shook his head. "I can't believe the two of them are touring together."

 

Teddy stared for a few seconds, long enough to know that the man he saw now was not the same man he'd been before the phone rang. Then he turned and walked toward the bedroom door. He'd stay here tonight. As he closed the door behind him, the sound on the television grew louder. It was the song that Rayna and Juliette had written together, the song that was number one on the charts. The one that had put them on this tour together.

 

"Wrong Song". The song about his life.

 

He took off his jacket then his tie. As he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, he looked at the perfectly-made bed, its two pillows covered by a floral print bedspread. Perfect on the outside, cold and empty on the inside.

 

The phone went on the bedside table, the alarm set for five am. He wanted to be home before the girls woke. He draped his pants over a desk chair beside his shirt, then he drew back the sheets, sliding in quickly. As he turned off the lamp, the music from the television ended and another song started, one he didn't know.

 

He drifted into sleep, the dreams coming quickly, fed by the memories from earlier. Warm summer days swimming, sailing, surfing, laughing and happy. Long summer nights, listening to music, talking, making love. Happy.

 

Deacon as he had been so long ago, back when all that mattered was each other and the future they'd wanted together. Back when he'd believed that love could solve problems instead of make them.

 

He wasn't aware of the music ending, just the long silent emptiness afterward.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
